C.S. Lewis once wrote:
“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different?”
I wish I had half the zeal I had when I was 22. I’ve been carrying around this journal from 2011. I didn’t fill it up back then, so I decided to continue journaling in it this year. A few nights ago I decided to read what I had written back when I was 21. At 21 I was praying for God to answer me. I thought I was in love with someone who had become my best friend at that point in time. A few pages later, God had answered. After talking things out, he made it clear to me that our friendship was not going anywhere. And I was left broken hearted. I had forgotten that after this happened, I struggled with bitterness for months. (It took me well over a year to get over him.) Heck, I had forgotten that I ever even felt that I loved that guy. Looking back brings me hope.
I spent 18 months in India. Looking back now makes heart break seem so petty compared to the damage that my body and mind undertook while I was there. Truth is that I am still healing from it. It’s been a little over a year since I’ve been back in my beautiful America and I’m still struggling. Before India, I had never struggled with anxiety. I honestly had, until then, been carefree and fearless. I loved it. I miss it. I miss who and how I used to be. Not all of me is gone, I know that. I spent the morning reading every post I published on this blog. From ages 21-24. I left to India at 25. I knew the risks of leaving, but I never imagined the results of it. I knew I’d come back older and single (my program was strict about dating while on the field.) I knew I’d miss out on my family. I knew that I’d come back and none of my friends would be around. But I had no idea I’d get so sick and so stressed. That I’d undergo trauma, get anxiety attacks, freak out long term. That my body would feel like I was shaking and I’d think so many irrational thoughts and develop so many fears.
Im naturally an optimist and tend to find joy in-spite of circumstances, but there have been days in the past year where I wondered if I’d make it through the day without crying or wondering if this was ever going to end. These have been the darkest waters Ive ever had to tread. But I have hope, though some days I ask my self if that shaking sensation will ever go away entirely.
Reading these blogs gives me hope. Because back then, I never thought I’d get past the bitterness and hurt, but by Gods grace and kindness, i did. I hate anxiety. So much. For so many reasons. It’s been a thorn in my side to wonder through out my day if that tight chest feeling might be a heart attack ( Believe me, I know its irrational, and Ive seen all the doctors and everything just points to anxiety). Ever since I almost stopped breathing in India, health has been the thing I freakout about most. Which honestly makes me mad. Cause I was never like that. I would honestly say that I was even willing to die for the gospel, and that death would be gain. So it annoys me that I fear death or at-least the pain that might come before it now. I’m praying so much to get past this, just as I prayed before that i’d truly forgive and get passed the bitterness. And I have hope.
Besides anxiety, I am realizing now that for about two years now, I’ve lost sight of the glory of God. I used to have such zeal. I used to care so much more. I used to be more faithful to abide in the Word. I want that again. I’ve never wanted to waste my life. I know that this past year has been all about healing for me. I’ve needed these months to get put back together, and to feel safe again. I don’t know that that season is over. But I do know that I can begin to, as it says in hebrews, “lift my drooping hands and strengthen my weak knees, and make my path straight for my feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.”
I read this article last night.
It encouraged me so much. This part specifically stood out:
For my own part, I have never ceased to rejoice that God has appointed me to such an office. People talk of the sacrifice I have made in spending so much of my life in Africa. . . . Is that a sacrifice which brings its own blest reward in healthful activity, the consciousness of doing good, peace of mind, and a bright hope of a glorious destiny hereafter? Away with the word in such a view, and with such a thought! It is emphatically no sacrifice. Say rather it is a privilege. Anxiety, sickness, suffering, or danger, now and then, with a foregoing of the common conveniences and charities of this life, may make us pause, and cause the spirit to waver, and the soul to sink; but let this only be for a moment. All these are nothing when compared with the glory which shall be revealed in and for us. I never made a sacrifice. (Perspectives on the World Christian Movement, 1981, 259)
I pray that I can wholeheartedly say at the end of my life “I never made a sacrifice.” Through tears and pain, still worthy. I can’t help but be thankful for things that haven’t changed and for the many awesome thing I experienced while living overseas. I got to see people come to Christ, to learn a new language, to eat new foods and explore landmarks, ruins, markets and coffeeshops. I got to make lifelong friends. See Istanbul, Paris, Rome, Florence, Venice and Bologna. I got to wake up surround by the Himalayas in Kathmandu. Walk the beach in Sri Lanka, swim in ice cold lakes in Sat Tal. I got to visit my Kiki and meet John and Noel Piper. John Piper prayed for me, what?! How did I even get there? I see God’s goodness and kindness and grace, allowing me to see and experience so many things that I did and do not deserve. I’m still me, my love language is still words, followed by quality time and physical touch. I still like personality tests, and strategic games. I still laugh to myself a hundred times a day. I still look at the same meme and laugh for 10 minutes. Still light hearted, still crack myself up. Still love gummies. Still enjoy sitting down and doing nothing the entire day Saturday. I still dream. I still want to travel. Still love the window seat. Still the typo queen. Still hate making phone calls.
I still experience His goodness daily. He still bears me up, still provides. Has loved me so much through the place I now call home (summit church). Has provided me friends and a family in my local church. Has taken my mom and brother and sister to different places and sustained them. Has let me do things like leave for a month to spend time with my sister and niece.
God has been so good to me. His trials are still my good. I know He is doing something and that He is good and therefore I have hope.
I wont pretend the fears aren’t there because they still show up. But they don’t block out the hope. Hopes and fears; simultaneously.
So, yeah,
This is me.
If you read all of this, I invite you to hope.
Lets hope in God together.
His and yours,
Pati
Just Another Rational Romantic 